His one true love
by Aurora33883
Summary: But he wasn't Tom Riddle, because Tom Riddle was dead, gone with the body that the woman he had loved was crying over, and Lord Voldemort smiled. -One shot-


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, I only own the character's that I myself created, everything else goes to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

He hadn't meant to fall in love with her. No, Tom Riddle hadn't even been sure what love _was_. He had just seen it as some weak and irrelevant emotion felt by only those who didn't understand true power. She had just been a play thing, someone that he could shower with praise and affection, and then when his business was done, never speak to again. It had always brought him immense pleasure to know that he could cause that kind of pain, he only wished that he could stay around to see the exact moment when they realized that what they had shared hadn't meant anything. But it didn't work out that way.

The first and most important problem had been the business itself. Every time he thought he had grasped the information he needed it slipped right out of his fingers. It had been incredibly useful, the location to an ancient set of books which contained numerous dark wards, all of which he was sure not even Albus Dumbledore himself had heard of. He had needed some better way to hide his horcruxes. But that wasn't his only problem.

Adeline Vanex, a veela as unusual as her name. She had intrigued him deeply, having been even more beautiful than those of her kind that he had met. But was he supposed to accept anything less than the best? So even after she had rejected him, he came back. True, there had been other veela's that he could've charmed, but Adeline had posed a challenge, and he was nothing if not persistent.

So after days of research and torture, he had spent his nights stubbornly refusing to leave her alone until she gave him a chance. He was sent away every time, but he had seen that she had been softening. It was after he found one of the seemingly unattainable books that she had finally agreed. He had almost not gone, far too interested in memorizing the text that had been even better than he had imagined, but he had reminded himself that he could wait until morning to peruse it.

It had been an amazing night, and while he may not have gotten as far as he may have wanted to, she had agreed to see him again. And on it went. Somewhere in between complicated spells and Adeline's dark red hair he had found himself making a routine, one where he would later be surprised to find included her.

It was weeks later, after a night of mingled bodies and heavy breaths that he had felt something. Not entirely unpleasant, but unusual. Shocked, he had immediately went around searching, convinced that something had happened to his precious horcruxes, but after finding them all where they had been left, he had wondered what it was that was wrong with him.

After this display she had asked him what had happened, staring at him with large blue eyes, and he had surprised himself by almost telling her he truth. Coming up with a lie had been easy, forgetting it had not.

All of the books had almost been found, only one had been left, and from the look of the brunette that he had in his basement, it wouldn't be long before he could leave. This would normally have had him sighing in relief, practically feeling the rush from what he would do next, but it just wouldn't come.

And so, not one to over think on something as useless as a feeling, he went for a distraction, the same one that he had been with for months now. And it was when they were almost asleep, the only sound being soft breathing and quiet murmurs that she had asked him again. '_What's wrong?',_ And for some odd reason which he had later blamed on exhaustion, he had told her.

He had told her about the real reason he had gone there, the books that he needed to obtain, the means in which he had gotten them, and for a reason he would never understand, why it was that he needed them. He had gone on and on, getting more eager the more he talked, telling her his plans, everything that he had done, what he had been through in doing it, and it was only when he was almost finished that he had seen her face.

Horrified would've been putting it mildly. The rest of the night, or morning as it had become, was a blur. But she had run, from him and all he had shared, and it was only after he had stood there, in the middle of the room that he now had so many memories in, that he wondered, _'is this how they feel when I leave?',_ And suddenly, he had understood.

With a growing sense of horror he had realized why he hadn't killed her as she fled, why he had risked his most precious secret leave the bright blue walls, walls that now seemed the exact same shade of her eyes. But it was too late; he could no longer bury his feelings with her motionless body, because it was gone. Flown away into the night, along with any sort of advantage in a battle.

He had been so sure that by noon everyone would have been warned, that he'd be chased by Aurors everywhere, but in rushing to leave the continent he had come across one, and the fact that he was not dueled upon glance had him taking a pause. Through extensive research he had realized that no one knew. _She hadn't told._ And then he had been sure of something else, she was coming back. That night had just been a shock, and she was going to come back, and he was going to rule as Lord Voldemort with her by his side.

But the days of waiting turned into weeks and weeks into months and months into years, and it almost two decades later when he saw her. Lord Voldemort had by then been a name that installed fear in anyone with any percentage of a brain, and attacking hogsmeade was something that he finally gotten around to.

In between terrified screams and desperate spells he had seen her. The same red hair, fierce expression looking out of place on her soft features. But something was wrong, and it only took him a second to realize what. Her eyes. They weren't the vibrant blue he was used to; they were a very dark brown, easily mistaken for black. They were his.

It took only that realization for him to see the differences. The smattering of light freckles covering her nose, the slightly upturned nose, the more angular shape of her face, and he was sure he would've noticed more, possibly captured her and made her tell him where Adeline was, but he was suddenly surrounded by a gang of teenagers.

Two of them he recognized, the wild hair could only be a Potter's, and there was only one who would be of Hogwarts age, and the combination of slanted eyes and olive toned skin could only be that of a Black's, and he was fairly sure the younger one would later become one of his Death Eater's, so that left the older one.

The other two he wasn't concerned about, but getting rid of them proved to be more difficult than he would've liked, and he only achieved in doing so when the 'almighty' Dumbledore arrived and told his students to stand down and leave for safety. He had thought he'd lost her when he saw her being dragged away by the Black brother he had just dueled; he had knocked out Potter and the brunette, and gave the other one another scar to run along his arm, but none of this brought him pleasure as much as a clue to Adeline did.

And it was after that attack that he had searched for her, the obsession coming to an end only when he heard of the prophecy. It was decades later, after his humiliating defeat and equally frustrating return that he finally saw her. The same blue eyes, same fair skin and long hair. She had aged, true, but she was a veela, and they did so well.

He had thought that upon seeing her he'd have the same yearning that he had oh so many years ago. But times had changed, and when they saw each other again, in the battle of Hogwarts, his end unknowingly near, he fired a curse, he put in it all of the years of waiting, planning, even _praying_, and watched in detached satisfaction as it hit it's mark, watching the motionless body hit the ground, hearing the roaring wail as those brown eyes, the same shade as his used to be, stared onward in eternal surprise.

Tom Riddle had been someone who did something as idiotic as fall in love, and let that love rule his life for years. But he wasn't Tom Riddle, because Tom Riddle was dead, gone with the body that the woman he had loved was crying over, and Lord Voldemort smiled, for even after all these years, one thing had not changed, and the pleasure coursing through his veins as tear and hate filled blue eyes glared up at him made him realize just what he had been missing.


End file.
